


Kiss Like No One's Watching

by CarolineShea



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-13 00:20:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10502529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarolineShea/pseuds/CarolineShea
Summary: A series of ficlets in which several of the known gay characters in Glee are forced to confront, in one way or another, a public display of affection.





	

Kiss Like No One's Watching, Part One: Hiram and LeRoy Berry

July 28, 2000

 

 

The officer who takes their statement is benignly sympathetic.

She nods and asks questions in all the right places as her pen scratches rhythmically across her notepad.

She obtains a thorough description of the two perpetrators. She encourages them to get in touch with their local ACLU chapter and gives them the number for the nearest victim advocacy group. She even recommends a repair shop for the estimate on their car.

She reassures them that Rachel is just next door with the staff psychologist and that she’s doing very well, that in fact she’s holding up beautifully under the… circumstances.

But there’s the _slightest_ of hesitations when the officer talks about Rachel; she purses her lips a fraction as the rest of her expression draws downward.

It’s a look with which they’re familiar.

They’ve gotten it from the checkout lady at the grocery store and from the clerk at the post office; from Rachel’s preschool teachers and from Hiram's boss. From LeRoy’s parents, Rachel’s ballet instructor, their next-door neighbors, and even their rabbi.

 _It’s no business of mine what the two of you do with your life_ , the look says. _But what gave you the right to bring a child into all this?_

 

0000

0000

0000

 

Rachel drops off to sleep as soon as her head hits the pillow. Hiram and LeRoy sit on the edge of the bed and watch her for a few minutes, just taking in the sight of their daughter - the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes, the sweep of her black hair across the pillow, the ten tiny fingers threading through the faded fur of Barbra the Broadway Bear.

LeRoy’s dry whisper shakes Hiram out of his trance. “I think I’m going to have a glass of wine.”

Hiram glances over at LeRoy, the glow of Rachel’s night-light casting a blue shadow across his face. “I'll join you,” he says quietly.

His trepidation increases as they steal out of the room, shutting the door behind them. Wordlessly, they head for the kitchen. Hiram plucks two wine goblets from the cabinet and watches as LeRoy selects a bottle of Chardonnay from their wine rack.

“1997,” says LeRoy, holding out the bottle for inspection. “Good year.”

“Rachel was three.”

“She was,” agrees LeRoy. “Most children that age want Sesame Street or Wee Sing Silly Songs played in the car. But all Rachel wanted was”-

 _“Phantom of the Opera_ ,” they say at the same time, each cracking a slight smile.

“Well,” sniffs Hiram, “I’ve always said that Andrew Lloyd Webber songs are best-suited for an immature audience.”

“Yes, I know,” says LeRoy, rolling his eyes. “Because you’re a Sondheim snob, darling, and you always will be. So I’ll sneak Rachel off to see _Evita_ and you can just sit at home listening to the soundtrack of _A Little Night Music_ for the five-hundredth time.”

“If it’s the original West End recording, then frankly yes, I’d much prefer that to an evening of overwrought, plebeian”-

“Hiram?” LeRoy’s voice is low, serious.

“Yes?” he asks, startled.

LeRoy takes in a quick breath and says in a sure, steady voice: “I want us to move. I want the three of us – you, me, and Rachel – to leave Ohio.”

Silence follows that statement as Hiram takes it in.

“You want us to move,” he repeats.

LeRoy nods firmly. “I do.”

Hiram arches an eyebrow. “And go... where, exactly?” he asks, as slowly and as reasonably as he can.

“Well…” says LeRoy slowly, drumming his fingers quietly against the oak tabletop. “I thought we could work that out together. New York, maybe? Boston? Somewhere on the west coast?”

Hiram stares at him in total confusion. “LeRoy, what on earth - ?”

“Or Vermont,” says LeRoy casually – too casually. “I hear it’s lovely.”

And suddenly so much is clear.

“Sweetheart…” he says, shaking his head sympathetically. “No. We can’t just – “

“Why not?” says LeRoy. “Why not? Why can’t we, Hiram? We can have a legal civil union there. We can have rights. Benefits. The protection of law. You can’t tell me you’ve never considered this.”

Hiram blinks at him in surprise. “Of course I’ve considered it. But we can’t just… throw away the life we’ve built for ourselves here because of _one_ incident. What happened today”-

“-will happen again,” says LeRoy flatly. “If we stay here. You can count on it.”

Hiram pauses, unused to hearing such venom in LeRoy’s gentle voice.

“And you know I wouldn’t care if it was just the two of us; I know we can look after ourselves. But we have Rachel to think of. Children today grow up very quickly, Hiram. She’s already starting to understand how the world works and she's already aware that she’s different from her classmates – because of us, because she has two dads. And before you know it, she’ll be a young woman, and the list of things we can’t protect her from is just going to keep growing and _growing_ ”-

“I understand all that,” says Hiram calmly. “But these problems exist everywhere. There isn’t a place in the world we can go where she’ll be completely safe from homophobia. You’re talking as though there’s some… _line_ they drew around Vermont that will make our problems go away. But those problems will stay with us wherever we go. The only thing that would be disappearing is us.”

LeRoy laughs bitterly. “I knew you’d do this. I knew it. Next thing you’ll be telling me that this is all about _pride_ ”-

“You’re damn right it is,” snaps Hiram. “It’s about standing tall and fighting back. It’s about teaching Rachel that her fathers aren’t going to let anyone push them around - and neither should she. It’s about not letting them _win_ , LeRoy.”

“Well, what about the chance to become my partner? Would that mean anything to you?”

Hiram gapes at LeRoy. “You are my partner.”

“No, I’m not.” The words are sharp and vicious, flung in his face like a bucket of ice-water. “There are no civil unions in Ohio. Absolutely no recognition of our relationship.”

“LeRoy“-

“The reason we have the same last name isn’t because of a marriage certificate, it’s because we went to court and had it changed. We file taxes separately. We aren’t on the same insurance plans. As far as the government is concerned, we’re roommates who sleep together – and twenty-five years ago, that wouldn’t have been legal in Ohio, either!”

Hiram’s head is practically spinning. “I married you, LeRoy. I stood in this living room in front of our friends and told you that I loved you. We always said… you always said that it was enough. That was all we needed.”

LeRoy pauses; he appears to be choosing his next words carefully. “Hiram,” he says slowly, “the reason I said that was enough for me… is because I didn’t know it could be any different. The idea of marriage or civil unions or any of it seemed so far-fetched at the time. But now that it’s not - god, you have no idea. I want what we have to be recognized. I want to _live_ somewhere where it’s recognized. And the fact that there are people in this country who have that? Well, I’m sorry, but it makes me feel like what we have is a lie.”

Hiram breathes in deeply once, twice, three times. “In seven years of marriage," he says slowly, placing a pointed emphasis on the last word, “I don’t think you’ve ever said anything that cruel to me. A lie, LeRoy?”

LeRoy’s face softens, but: “Honestly, yes, a little. We’ve been together for a decade. I think I’ve earned the right to be your husband. And I think I’ve earned the right to give my husband a goddamn _kiss_ without -"

“Speaking of that,” interrupts Hiram, lowering his voice, “what the hell were you thinking? Out in public? When Rachel was with us?”

LeRoy blinks at him in pained confusion. “What was I thinking? Hiram, you kissed back. And it wasn’t like I shoved my tongue down your throat; it was just a -"

“It was enough,” says Hiram sharply.

LeRoy’s face twists into a mask of anger. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this,” he hisses. “You’re choosing to be pissed at me instead of the two assholes who - ?”

A child’s high-pitched wail cuts LeRoy's sentence short. LeRoy snaps his gaze instantly to the hallway; he barely register's Hiram's shocked-wide eyes doing the same.

"Rachel."

"Rachel - "

As it is, there's a near-collision in the doorway once they catch a glimpse of Rachel standing in the middle of her room, glassy-eyed and ghost-pale in her white nightgown.

"Daddy," she sniffs plaintively. "Daddy, I - I had a _bad_ dream." Her little face crumples and although both Hiram and LeRoy kneel down in front of her, she flings a hand out dramatically in Hiram's direction as though warding him off. "Nooo," she wails. "I want _Daddy_."

Daddy is LeRoy. 

"Okay, sweetheart," LeRoy says soothingly. "Okay." He holds his arms out and Rachel throws her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. 

Hiram forces himself to be calm, and to not feel hurt by the apparent rejection. The most important thing is that Rachel feel safe, he reminds himself. 

"What was that, sweetheart?" asks LeRoy quietly. 

Rachel whispers a few muffled words into the crook of his neck. LeRoy looks up at Hiram, his mouth twisted into an apologetic grimace. "She wants you to wait outside. She says she has something to tell me."

It's a stab to the gut, being excluded from whatever Rachel is going through. He exchanges an anguished glance with LeRoy, who says quickly, "I'll come out to you as soon as I can. I'm sorry about this."

Hiram swallows thickly, before giving a terse nod and exiting the room. The door clicks behind him with finality, and he leans against the wall in the hallway, rubbing at his temple with weary fingers. There have been different periods throughout Rachel's young life where she has gravitated to one or the other of her fathers. There had been a time where she'd clung to Hiram almost to the exclusion of LeRoy, and there had been a time when she'd barely let LeRoy out of her sight. Things have mostly evened out now, but the pattern seems to be that Rachel prefers LeRoy when she's feeling scared or embarrassed - basically for anything she considers more private.

A nightmare would probably fall under this category, but knowing that doesn't make the reality any easier. It doesn't alleviate the frustration or the powerlessness that he's feeling right now. 

About two minutes later, the bedroom door opens. LeRoy holds up a hand, forestalling Hiram's anxious questions. He wordlessly beckons him out of the hallway and into their bedroom, closing the door once they're inside.

"Is she all right?" Hiram asks urgently. "LeRoy, is she all right? What did she - ?"

“She wet the bed.” The sentence is matter-of-fact, but there’s a rushed breathlessness to the words that betrays his emotional state.

“Wait - what? What happened?”

“Rachel,” LeRoy says sharply. “She had a nightmare and she wet the bed. I need to -"

“Rachel…?” Hiram shakes his head as if to contradict the statement. “I don’t understand. She hasn’t done that in years. Are you sure - ?” The expression on LeRoy’s face is enough to make Hiram cut off his sentence abruptly.

“I need to go change her sheets,” LeRoy says flatly.

“I’ll help you-"

“No,” says LeRoy, holding up a hand, making the tense set of his shoulders all the more visible. “I’ll do it.”

“LeRoy…” says Hiram helplessly.

“I said _no_ ,” says LeRoy firmly. “Here’s what’s going to happen: I’m going to go downstairs and get a clean set of sheets for Rachel. I’m going to make her bed, get her to take a quick bath, bring her a new nightgown, and give her a drink of water to calm her down. Then the three of us are going to talk about what happened today.”

LeRoy takes a deep breath, clenching his fingers into fists at his sides.

“We’re going to sit down with her. We’re going to look our six-year-old daughter in the eye and we’re going to explain to her exactly what happened today and why. Because that’s what we do, right? We’re honest with her, even when it feels like it’s killing us to do it - right?”

"LeRoy -"

“And then we’re going to stay with her until she falls asleep, assuming she _can_ sleep after the hell she was put through today.”

The two men stare across the kitchen at each other, the pained apology in Hiram’s eyes met with the weary hopelessness in LeRoy’s.

“And then after that, we’ll come back out here and you can finish telling me about the importance of not letting them win.”

“LeRoy, please-"

“And if you’re _extremely_ lucky,” he continues, voice near-shaking from anger and exhaustion, “maybe you’ll be able to convince me that they haven’t already won.”

 

FIN


End file.
